


Blood Will Tell

by FrenchRoast



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bluebeard Fusion, Gen, Gothic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 15:23:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12560384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchRoast/pseuds/FrenchRoast
Summary: Belle is in an arranged marriage to a man with dark secrets behind a locked door.





	Blood Will Tell

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Rumbelle Revelry 2017  
> Loosely based on the real life Gilles de Rais.
> 
> Prompts: Don't open the door!  
> It's not my blood.

Belle woke with a start. The candle next to her bed had burned out, and there were only a few shafts of light streaming in from the edges of the windows where the curtains failed to cover them. Nothing was familiar about the shadowy room, except for the things within it, which she recognized as hers. But then she noticed the wedding dress lying in a heap next to bed.

Her wedding dress.

She remembered.

Her parents, telling her how they had made a deal. Realizing she’d been bartered for their material security. Watching as her belongings were packed into trunks. Watching as the last of the trunks were loaded onto the coach that would carry her to her new home and her new husband. Forbidden to say farewell to the quiet, handsome spinner who lived at the edge of the forest. Arriving at the cold stone mansion in the middle of the dark forest just before night fell. The brief ceremony. Dinner. Bed.

It hadn’t been awful. Devastating in that it wasn’t with her love, but her husband cared for her. He was kind. Generous.

Nevertheless, the ache in Belle’s chest felt as tight as the weave of fabric of her gowns. She didn't know if it was comforting or heartbreaking to still be able to wear her true love’s handiwork now that they were separated. It didn’t matter. This was the life she must live now. Wife to a man wealthy beyond measure, who had forgiven her family’s debts. Living in a large, fine house, even if it was cold and dark. It was a better life than many others in her situation, and for that Belle supposed she must be grateful.

She found her new husband at the dinner table in the main hall, finishing off quite a hearty breakfast. He was handsome. Dark hair, darker eyes, a square jaw framed by a beard so black it almost seemed blue. Gaston de Rais, Baron of Montmorency. That made her Belle de Rais, Baronness of Montmorency. She sat across from the baron and began to serve herself.

“I’m afraid I will be leaving you for a few days, my dear,” he said. “There is business I must attend to a few towns over, and unfortunately it cannot wait.”

“You’re leaving today?” Belle asked incredulously. She sipped at her tea, the steam rising in her face like a ghost.

“Perhaps it is for the best. I will give you my keys, and you can explore your new home at your leisure. Perhaps even choose new furnishings. My previous wife’s taste in decor may not be yours, and I want you to be at home here. By the time I return, you’ll be more comfortable with your surroundings, and we can begin to get to know each other.”

Belle agreed it wasn’t the worst idea. After breakfast, he introduced her to Cook and the other servants. “We’ll stay out of your way, Madame de Rais. You won’t even know we’re here except at meals, or if you need something,” Cook promised. “We know our place.” Belle wondered if that statement was meant to reassure her husband more than herself.

“If you do need something, just ring and you will be given whatever you ask for,” Gaston assured her. “If it is not on hand here, it can be sent for.”

After the introductions had been made, Belle followed her husband to the study, where he gave her the keys. There were several of them, all on a brass ring. “It is a large house, as you’ve noticed. It does get a trifle spooky in the evening, but there’s no need to be scared. Please go wherever you like, except the tower.” He pointed out the key to the tower. “There is no need to use this key. I would remove it, but I trust you have the sense to avoid it.”

“Of course,” Belle replied. “May I ask what’s in the tower?”

“You may ask, but the answer doesn’t matter. Stay out of it,” he said, handing over the keys. “Now I must go, my dear. Take care, and I shall be back soon.”

******

Belle spent the day as her new husband suggested; she didn’t relish the idea of sitting in her room, and it was too cold and wet outside to stroll the grounds. Especially after she realized that somehow, her fine winter cloak had not been packed in any of her trunks. After she’d finished checking her room again at the end of the day, she rang for a servant. A girl appeared almost as if out of thin air.

“Has anyone seen a green and gold winter cloak? I’m afraid I may have left it behind, unless there’s still a trunk left to be unpacked? I would like to walk the grounds when the weather is a little less inclement.”

The servant girl insisted that everything had been unpacked already. “We can have a messenger fetch your cloak from your parents’ home, Madame,” she said. “Or purchase a newer, even finer one. Monsieur le Baron has accounts with all the best merchants in the kingdom.”

Belle told the girl that whatever the servants thought would be best would be fine and dismissed her as the hour had grown late. The sun had begun to set, and soon there was little light save what came from the candles. Scared she would lose her way back to the main hall (where dinner awaited; she had forgotten to tell Cook all she needed was a tray brought to her room), she grabbed a candelabrum before leaving her room.

The light of the candles flickered and danced with the shadows on the walls; what had been easy to navigate in relative daylight now felt like a maze. Somewhere Belle took a wrong turn--stone walls all looked the same, and the paintings on the walls were not yet familiar enough to be a guide to her. She found herself facing the door to the tower rather than the entrance to the main hall.

So much for the candelabrum helping her find her way.

She turned around, but as she did, a high-pitched scream came from behind her. Belle whirled around so fast the candles went out and she was left in darkness as her eyes adjusted. Something...someone was in there. Had to be. She knocked on the door.

“Hello? Is someone in there?”

Silence. Belle stepped back from the door, and turned away from it again.

There was no scream this time...but there was a whimper. A whisper.

“Turn the key and blood will tell.”

“Who is that?” Belle asked, steeling her voice and trying to sound braver than she felt in the moment. “Tell what?”

“Turn the key and blood will tell.” A different voice this time. Fainter than the first. “Turn the key and blood will tell.” Then another voice joined in, and another, and another. One sounded almost familiar. As the whispers grew into a chant, Belle turned and ran until she found the main hall.

******

That night, Belle slept fitfully. Her dreams were filled with women she’d never seen before, all with gruesome injuries. Several carried their own heads; others were covered in slashes, stab wounds. One was soaking wet, as though she’d drowned. Another had the face of the servant girl she’d spoken to that evening; she had huge purple-black bruises all around her neck as though she’d been strangled. Each had once been beautiful; all were dressed extravagantly. Each held a bloody key in their spare hand.

The next morning, Belle told herself she was just scaring herself. Seeing things. “The Baron himself said the place can be spooky at night. I just scared myself,” she said. “There’s no one in the tower whispering creepy things. I let my imagination get carried away. Yes. I’m sure if I opened the door to the tower, all I would see is stairs and dust. Maybe some discarded furniture.”

“In fact,” she said, rising from the bed and going to dress herself, “that’s what I’ll do. I know I’m not supposed to go in there, but it won’t hurt to open the door, peek inside, and close it.”

Soon she stood facing the door to the tower once more. Without hesitation, Belle found the key her husband had pointed out to her, thrust it into the lock, and opened the door. The sight within was nothing she could have ever expected, and only the surprise and shock of the scene that lay before her kept Belle from screaming endlessly.

There were women’s bodies everywhere. Some lay on the floor, some hung from ropes or were impaled upon the wall. Barrels and tubs full of dark scarlet liquid were scattered amongst the bodies...blood. That’s what they were filled with, Belle realized with horror. And not only was it collected there; blood also flooded the floor, running over the stone. A rug that covered part of the floor was soggy with it.

Belle hurried to grab the key from the lock and shut the door closed, but as she pulled it, the ring slipped from her hands and bounced off her skirt onto the bloody floor. She snatched it from the floor, slammed the door shut and locked it. She practically flew to the wash basin in her room and dropped the keys into it to wash off the blood. When she pulled the key ring out of the water, they were all clean except one. The key to the tower still had blood on it.

Open the door and blood will tell.

She began scrubbing at it; Belle tried every fancy soap she had. Rang for a servant and asked for vinegar. After scouring her books for more ideas, she rang for the servant again, this time asking for alum powder. Then lemons. Lavender oil, sage oil, lime. Salt. Nothing worked, no matter what her books said. It was dusk when she gave up trying to clean the key, accepting that some magic must be preventing her efforts.

Belle knew she had to escape her new, horror-filled home, but she needed a plan. She wouldn’t be able to return home. She would likely need to flee the country, given her husband’s power and influence. She spent the night determining what was most important to bring, and quietly storing those things within a pair of saddlebags in the stables. Her horse Phillippe had been one of the horses that brought her coach to this home, and she made sure he was groomed, fed, and watered. She would have one of the servants saddle him up after breakfast, and then Belle would make her escape. After her last trip to the stables, Belle went back up to her room and lay her head on her bed. She only meant to rest her eyes.

She awoke to the cheerful sound of a bell and Cook’s voice. “Monsieur Le Baron is at the gate! Step lively now everyone, he’ll be wanting things ready!” It was nearly midday, and Belle had lost her chance to escape with the morning light.

So she removed the key from the ring, hoping he wouldn’t notice it was missing, and that it would buy her some time to figure out a better plan. Until then, she would have to act the part of a new, doting wife who would never in a hundred years imagine that her handsome husband was a murderer.

“Ah, my beautiful wife, how I have missed you,” Gaston said as he dismounted his horse.

“And I you,” Belle said demurely.

“I brought you many fine presents to make up for my absence. The servants will bring them inside, and perhaps after a light meal I can give them to you.”

“That would be lovely.” Belle began to hope he would forget about the keys entirely, but after their lunch, he asked for them.

“Oh, I’ve left them in my room. Shall I bring them to you at dinner?”

Gaston frowned. “I think it would be best if I had them back now. There are some things I must attend to before I bring your gifts to you. I can accompany you to your room so you needn’t overtire yourself running all over the house. Cook mentioned you had slept in.” Belle nodded.

“I slept fitfully,” she confessed. Slowly, reluctantly, she arose from her seat at the table and the two of them went to her room. She grabbed the keys where they lay by the wash basin and handed them to her husband.

“There is a key missing,” he said as soon as the weight of the keys transferred to his grip. “Where is the key to the tower?”

“It must have fallen off,” Belle replied.

“I don’t think so,” Gaston said darkly. “For I see it there, on the other side of the bed.” He strode over and picked it up. Now his entire demeanor changed. Gone was the soft-spoken nobleman; before her now stood a beast of a man, in a frenzy of anger.

“I told you not to go into the tower. It was the only thing I asked. You had to see what was in there, didn’t you? DIDN'T YOU?” He grabbed her by the arms and shook her.

Belle glared at him. “You’re the one who killed those women,” she said. “You’re a monster.”

“And you, my dear, since you were so eager to see the inside of the tower, you will join the women inside there.” He threw her over his shoulder and carried her to the tower. Belle kicked and screamed the entire way, trying to squirm out of his grasp, but she was no match for his brute strength. He tossed her onto the bloody floor like a rag doll, and she scrambled to stand up and face him. He ran at her, and she darted to one side, barely missing a blow aimed at her head.

Then she saw the pull rope for summoning the servants, there at the top of the tower stairs.

“If you do need something, just ring and you will be given whatever you ask for.”

Belle ran for the stairs and rang for the servants. “I need help!” She glanced out the broken window at the top of the stairway...was that someone riding up on horseback?

A sword clattered behind her. Had it been there before? Never mind. Belle grabbed it and swung it around in Baron’s direction. He laughed as he continued up the stairs, forcing Belle to back up.

“Smart girl. You’re only the second wife of mine to try that.” He pulled a knife from his belt and cut the pull rope. “No more help from the servants, clever wife. Not for you or any other woman who follows in your bloody footsteps.”

Belle said nothing. He was between her and the door, and she was trying to figure out how to get past him. In the distance, she heard voices. And possibly...someone running?

Spill his blood and break the spell. Spill his blood and all is well.

“How shall this go, Baronness? Shall I use the sword you’re wielding? Or perhaps something slower? I drowned the last one, but I only used water that time,” he said, gesturing at one of the tubs of blood. “I’m feeling adventurous after all my travels.” He was too busy leering to see that someone else had entered the tower behind him. “And red is such a good color on you.”

“Blue really matches her eyes better,” the spinner said as he leapt forward, pushing Gaston toward the window. The Baron was taken by surprise and lost his balance. He almost caught the edge of the window with one hand, but Belle swung the sword and the blade cut through his wrist. Gaston’s hand landed on the tower floor even as he plummeted to the ground.

A chorus of delight went up from the room, as though all the women who had been killed there was no longer trapped. The ghostly figures from Belle’s nightmares began to rise up into the air and swirl around them, drifting upwards into the heavens. Among them, Belle saw the servant girl, and Cook. They smiled their thanks at her as they ascended, and Belle hugged her true love tightly. The mansion was no longer filled with grimdark shadows, and the sun’s warmth could be felt throughout. Whatever foul spell the Baron had cast over the mansion and used to trap the spirits of those he had killed, it was broken now.

 

 


End file.
